


Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips...

by WeStillAreMadeOfGreed



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch-Fandom, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anger, Arguing, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, inspired by Benedict's cheekbones, just an excuse to write Benedict smut really, or at least without a very well developed plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeStillAreMadeOfGreed/pseuds/WeStillAreMadeOfGreed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smash! The door makes a deafening noise as I slam it behind me. There’s another crash seconds later and the terrible sound of glass breaking, and I realise the force of the door slamming must have knocked that print that hung next to it off the wall. Fuck, that was the expensive one that only Ben liked.<br/>Somehow, I can’t bring myself to care.<br/>Fuck the door, fuck my stupid emotional heart and most of all, fuck him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrible at writing summarys..so yeah. This happened in a fangirling moment after The Empty Hearse aired, because damn guys, did you see his jawline when he kissed Molly. Just a silly oneshot. Read, enjoy the smut that ensued (I know I enjoyed writing it) and tell me what you think. It's my first time writing fanfiction and I honestly appreaciate all feed back. You can also follow me on tumblr: http://lokis-words-are-wind.tumblr.com/

_Smash!_

The door makes a deafening noise as I slam it behind me. There’s another crash seconds later and the terrible sound of glass breaking, and I realise the force of the door slamming must have knocked that print that hung next to it off the wall. Fuck, that was the expensive one that only Ben liked.

Somehow, I can’t bring myself to care.

Fuck the door, fuck my stupid emotional heart and most of all, fuck _him._

 _Ben._ I tear through the flat, hobbling in my high-heeled shoes; tears burn in my eyes, threatening downpour at any moment. I feel like a foolish, humiliated little girl.

No, more than that, I feel _angry_.

 That blinding rage, the one that burns a hole through your gut, that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Reaching our bedroom, I kick off my blue shoes and throw them against the floor. The stiletto tip of one breaks, and for some reason, that stupid insignificant detail is what breaks me. I collapse on the ground, chest heaving while I silently sob and tears drip down to ruin the gorgeous black silk of the dress I’d picked out so excitedly.

It’s the thought of that excitement really that gets to me. The high expectations I’d had for this evening, dinner at Martin’s and Amanda’s. A nice evening to get to know both of them better, and through them the part of Ben’s life, his career, that he kept trying to keep you away from. _Huh_. A harsh flower of bitterness blooms painfully in my chest. Look how that turned out.

A noise at the door startles me out of my reverie, and I hear the sound of keys jangling, thrown to the floor and the soft baritone of my boyfriend’s voice hardened by his muffled swearing as he sees the door.

A small angry smile plays on my lips as I pull myself up. _Wipe your tears off, cross your arms, straighten your back. Never let them see your pain._ I’ve never given any man that satisfaction. I feel my mask slipping back on; a mask made of hard, emotionless stone to hide all my weakness. The mask Ben had been able to see past and that I’d hoped I’d never have to wear for him.

The door opens suddenly, allowing timid rays of light into the room, tinted blue in the twilight. And there he is and _damn him,_ even when you’re furious at him, nobody can help notice how handsome he is. Those deadly sharp cheekbones under sea-coloured eyes that are now filled with worry and (I hope!) remorse. Those elegant hands with those beautiful, beautiful long fingers that he’s now running through his hair, stills dark from filming Sherlock. That sharp suit and shirt hanging effortlessly off his tall frame. Seeing me there, he stops suddenly.

“Darling, don’t ever do that again, do you know how worried I was?” he all but shouts in that amazing voice I’d fallen for so hard.

“I’m sorry if it worried you. But I think you have more to apologise for than I do.” My voice, as my sentences, is clipped and laconic. He was right, but all that knowledge did was fuel my embarrassed anger.

Fine, on the way back in the cab I _had_ suddenly told the driver to pull over when we were still a long way from home. I _did_ get out and hail a different one. So sue me. I don’t sit in stifling taxis next to fuckwits who don’t answer me.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t do that. You know I hate it when you do that”, Ben says, his voice angry yet breaking slightly, and I soften slightly inside. The way he shows emotion always manages to turn me on, even as I nip those feelings in the bud this time.

“Do what?” I challenge, my voice like a whip.

“Be so bloody emotionless! Don’t stand there talking to me like you don’t give a fuck about our relationship, if you’re upset, or angry, or I don’t know, whatever, at least show emotion!”, he finally shouts at the top of his voice, and I lose it completely.

“Fine! Fine, you know what, you want emotion you will fucking get emotion”, I scream, my hands against his shoulders, pushing him up against the wall. “You want to know why I did that? Why the hell do you think?! We get to Martin’s house, and what do you do when you see there was more people than you’d thought would be there? People, that don’t know me, your dirty little secret?”

My voice is mocking, harsh, alien to my own ears and I’m gripping his face with a wild strength and I don’t know what I’m doing. From the shocked look on his face I don’t think Benedict knows either; however judging from the growing hardness in his trousers he obviously doesn’t mind. Almost unconsciously, I decide to use towards my advantage.

“Darling, Mia, calm down! Listen-“

“There’s nothing to listen to,” I say, my voice softening slightly as I press myself against him. “You’re obviously ashamed of me, otherwise you wouldn’t have left after two minutes, after not even letting me _talk_ to anyone-“

Ben abruptly puts his large hands around my face. “Darling, listen to me, just let me explain, I-“

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the way we’re pressed together against a wall and both slightly excited. Maybe it’s his soft voice and wild eyes, or the way his thumbs are rubbing circles on my cheekbones. Maybe it’s how stupid I feel to think he was in any way proud of me, and that’s what makes me do the stupidest thing I could possibly do at that moment.

I bury my hands in his hair and kiss him.

I’ve kissed Benedict many times before. Teenager-like snogging sessions, wild passionate film star kisses, sloppy drunk sex tongues and soft loving ones that make my stomach decide to take up professional bungee-jumping.

But this, this is new. It is hard, wild, teeth and tongues and blood from bitten lips, fuelled by anger and sadness and that difficult love that burns so brightly and is so hard to put into words.

Much easier to show with actions. So I do.

Both of us panting, I shove him hard against the bed so that he falls in an undignified heap, his now prominent erection visible under the suddenly tight material of his trousers. As he starts to open his mouth, I silence him by practically ripping my dress off and revealing the skimpy black lace lingerie set I’d had chosen earlier- complete with garters, lace stocking, barely-there bra, _the whole fucking set you asshole_.

The thought of the way I’d wanted tonight to be perfect spurs me on and I climb gracelessly onto the bed, straddling him, rubbing my core against his. His low moans and grunts simply inflame me further. I unhook my bra with one hand, flinging it over my shoulder, and put his on my breasts, his breath hitching and moans lowering an octave as his fingers start to play with my pebbled nipples, all the while palming his erection. The sensation is almost overwhelming, I feel him everywhere as I feel my desire pool between my legs, ruining the lace thong I’m wearing and demanding to be satisfied. Yet somehow I manage to retain a modicum of common sense and keep my head clear.

Well, as clear as it can be, what with being in bed with Benedict and all.

I rip his dinner jacket off and give the same treatment to his shirt, in the process ripping all the buttons off. I start kissing my way down his neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks that will be starkly visible in the morning; my pleasure that these mark him as mine is almost animalistic. I trail kisses down his muscular chest and bite, _hard_ , on his sharp hip bone, as he lets out a low moan and bucks his hips beneath me. A sliver of light falls on him as the curtains flutter and his skin looks pearly white, soft, inviting and mine to devour. I trail my tongue just above the waistband of his boxers, blowing lightly afterwards, driving him into a frenzy all the more potent now that my hands are gripping his wrists above his head.

“You want this?”, I ask in a voice I don’t recognise. A voice of a woman more confident and devastating than I’d ever been. Ben nods wildly and moans, past words. His pupils are so dilated his eyes appear completely black with desire and I feel lightning stab through me at the thought that _I’m_ able to reduce him to this state. “Then beg. This is your punishment. Go on, Ben, I want to hear you tell just how much you want me and _how”,_ I hiss as I finally pull his boxers down and grasp him wildly.

“Oh fuck, I…I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me. Oh dear God….” he barely manages, before yelling out a litany of curses and pleas as I oblige and take his cock in an iron grip. I pump up and down in quick, hard strokes that leave him breathless. I slowly lower my mouth to the tip, already leaking precum and lick along the underside. The sound that leaves his mouth at that is unbelievably, devastatingly erotic.

I finally decide to satisfy both of us, and after taking off his shoes, pants and trousers completely, I look him in the eyes as I tear off my panties. The sound of ripping lace is an obvious aphrodisiac to Ben, as he tips his head back and arches his back, allowing me a full view of his delicious neck. This suddenly proves too much and as my hands grip his shoulders fiercely I slam myself down on his thick, hard length, causing both of us to moan loud enough to convince the neighbours to call the fire brigade.

Again, I simply can’t bring myself to care.

I rock feverishly against him, snapping my hips back and forth as I plant hard kisses like stamps on his swollen lips. Ben’s eyes are hooded with pleasure, yet he keeps them fixed on mine as slowly, torturously slowly, he flicks his tongue across my left nipple. I scream at the feeling coupled with his talented fingers working my clit at the same time, and unintelligible sounds tumble from both our mouths as I pick up the pace, slamming myself down again and again, relishing this sensual dance between pain and pleasure as I ride him  furiously.

This is not love-making or even an ordinary quickie, but rough, primal, our sweat intermingling and his hands fisting in my tangled hair. I feel my orgasm mounting, expanding through my body, down my spine and legs until my mind is drowning in the intense, unreal pleasure Ben is making me feel. One thought takes over my mind- I’m as close to him as you can possibly be to another person. This devastating surge of love drives me wild as I finally climax, my inner walls clenching and rippling around him. Benedict thrusts up harshly a few more times, before climaxing violently with a yell.

I collapse onto him, boneless with pleasure as waves of ecstasy wash over me and turn to kiss him lightly on the lips.

“Fucking hell”, Benedict whispers. His voice rumbles in his chest and sends vibrations down my spine as I lay my head on his collarbone and feel, as unreasonable as it is, that everything just might be alright after all.  

Yep. Very unreasonable, actually, as memories of what lead to this finally drop back into my head like a ton of bricks.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me”, I whisper shakily, the pleasure finally wearing off as I think of what I just did, and white hot embarrassment taking its place.

“Mia, it’s fine love, please don’t be embarrassed.” Benedict smiles that beautiful, eye-crinkling smile of his that he knows melts me every time and pulls me in for a long, deep kiss that makes me feel that wild burst of love again. I can’t help but make a sound of protest when he pulls away, making him chuckle. Dear God, I think, thank you for being able to see him with messy sex hair and sweat dripping off his forehead, I think. His smile is fading slowly though.

“I am truly sorry though for what I did earlier. You were right, it was inexcusable,” he says quietly, looking down, and I am struck by how deep my love for this brilliant man is, that I feel capable of forgiving him anything. Maybe not quite anything. But my at least my desperate anger has faded. “I guess I don’t know what came over me either.”

“Well, at least you didn’t attack me out of the blue like I did and proceed to have mind-blowing wild sex on Martin’s carpet”, I shoot back, snorting.

“No, I don’t think he’s appreciate that somehow. But by all means, let’s continue to have mind-blowing sex in the privacy of our own home much more often”, he says grinning, but again the grin fades and is replaced by an expression that I’m pretty sure mirrors the one I wore this evening.

“The thing is…You are the most special person in my life now, and I can’t bear to think of ever losing, I love you so much. Many girlfriends I’ve had in the past have broken up because…because of the pressure of it, of dating an actor, the fan attention, both good and bad, and I guess when I saw all those people that I knew would probably be actors, or somehow connected to that world…and I just flipped, I guess.” He cups my face and brings me towards him until our foreheads are touching, kissing me lightly. “I’ve been keeping away from that side of my life in order to keep you in it at all, I suppose. That’s all. I promise I could never be ashamed of you, ever. You mean so much to me, God, I can’t even put it into words…” He trails off and those words burn through me, igniting a warmth and peace I hadn’t felt in a while. The sight of this normally beautifully eloquent man stuttering, at a loss for words wrecks me inside, leaving me a mess of emotions that only Ben can put back together again.

“You know, you’re not _that_ famous. Don’t flatter yourself that that’s going to be what drives me away.” Well, maybe at a loss for words is better than having stupid shit tumble from it with no filter.

Grimacing, I bury my face in his chest. “All I’m trying to say is, I love you Benedict so, so much and you make me feel a happiness and security I’ve never felt before, and nothing will ever change that, and if you want to keep some privacy that’s fine but please, please trust me and trust our love enough to know that I would never leave because of something that isn’t your fault and makes you happy”, I finish off in a rush, cheeks bright red with embarrassment because I’ve never expressed my feelings for someone so badly and in so many words and if he laughs at me I might die.

But he doesn’t. Instead he swallows, and I think I can spot a tear nestling in a corner of his eye before his arms tighten around me and he pulls me closer for a kiss as deep and strong as the ocean I could see from my bedroom window every morning of my childhood. And I feel now, as I did then, _home_. 

**Author's Note:**

> The "turning to poison..." bit in the title is from Keat's "Ode on Melancholy"


End file.
